


The Last Leaf

by masked



Series: The Last Leaf [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive usage of soup as a daily meal, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Dean with a salad, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Pneumonia, Pre-Slash, Retelling, Sam Being Sam, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masked/pseuds/masked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a series of unfortunate event, Dean is down with pneumonia and Sam is off of college for a year. Sam struggles to keep both his and Dean's heads above the water, admittedly without much success. When a certain Castiel moves in next door, Sam receives help in pulling Dean out of his personal hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Leaf

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** this fic contains scenes where some of the more severe symptoms of depression are explicitly shown (such as suicidal thoughts without motivation to carry through with it), and may be triggering for those with depression or has suffered depression in the past.

Sam noted that the hacking coughs have become worse than last night. He quickly reacted to his brother miserably trying to get out of bed, only to be dragged back in by Sam. 

"I'm _fine_ , Sammy." He said with a sigh, his voice hoarse from the coughing.

"You should've just asked." Sam handed him the glass of water. Dean merely studied the glass before setting it carefully beside the bed. He turned his gaze to the window, and Sam thought back to the doctor's words in the empty hallway just outside of their apartment.

"He has a good chance of getting better, sure, but that's only if he _wants_ to get better." The doctor had frowned, shaking his head. "If he had any goals he wished to achieve before this-" he gestured his hand at the closed door, "-then I suggest you remind him of it. Also..."

"Sir?"

The doctor seemed to hesitate. "He's showing definite signs of severe depression. It's not my job to diagnose him with it, so I suggest you get that checked out soon."

Sam had nodded, not trusting his voice to not give up on him.

It made sense. Of course it made sense. Sam has been a Winchester long enough, and equally had known Dean long enough to recognize an emotionally hard time, even for them. Sam was barely holding on himself for Dean. 

The news of John's death crept on them in surprise. Neither of them were expecting it when they picked up the phone to hear the news of their father's crash with a semi-truck that ran a red light. By the time they arrived in Missouri, it was too late. 

It seemed impossible, but everything went into a steady downward spiral afterwards.

Dean's drinking became worse, and his fuse became shorter and shorter as days went by. They had gotten into heated arguments about the littlest things, and Sam had been sick of it all. He ran out of the apartment and stayed in Stanford's library for weeks, until Dean had left a clumsy, apologetic voicemail about his recent behaviours. 

The tension died a little after that, but it only went on for so long. Dean relapsed into his drinking habits after getting an angry call from Jo on how she found out that John had left her father to die back in Vietnam, and that she never wanted to speak to them again. The Harvelles were their treasured friends, whom Dean had dared to call family and Sam had silently agreed, and the call they received after few months of John's death was a puncture wound to their already bleeding hearts. Being rejected by Ellen and Jo was almost the same as losing a mother and a sister.

Sam had left Dean to drink that night, wanting a sanctuary of his own to drown his miseries in alcohol. After hours of binge drinking with his college friends, he stumbled out of the bar, only to be stabbed on the back in the dark alley he tried to cross to get back home. It was one of the men that he had won money from during his pool games at the bar.

The next time he woke up, Dean was pacing in the hospital room with dark circles under his eyes. It turned out that a homeless man found Sam, and called the ambulance and the first contact on his contact list with Sam's phone. He was in critical condition at one point, but was stable enough for the surgeries. The homeless man was paid a heap sum of money by Dean and Bobby for rescuing Sam.

Sam got a good ripping from both Bobby and Dean after waking up, and he ended up taking a year off from college, which cost him some of his scholarships. He found out soon after that Dean had spent all of his savings to pay for Sam's surgeries.

Dean started coughing a week after Sam applied for his time off from college. After much pleading from Sam, Dean finally went to the doctor's, and came back home diagnosed with pneumonia. The doctor suspected that he must have caught it while staying at the hospital to keep an eye on Sam during Sam's recovery. Dean refused to visit any hospitals after, the memory of losing John and almost losing Sam too fresh and raw in the sanitized rooms, so Sam had to make do by having the doctor visit them at their apartment. Sam lost contact with most of his college friends as they were busy with school and he was busy taking care of Dean. 

And now here they were, looking out the grey sky of California from the window beside Dean's bed. Dean hadn't been in his workshop for few weeks now, his boss demanding him to take time off because he didn't want any of his other mechanics to be infected, and Sam had nowhere else to go now. With no current steady income, they were slowly chipping off of Sam's untouched college fund from John before he died as Sam looked around for a temporary job. Sam had gotten the full ride throughout college until now, and he was glad to have saved it untouched for times like this. For now, they were penniless and jobless with only each other as company.

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to fix something up for you?" Sam asked, hovering over Dean anxiously. 

Dean waved him off. "Not hungry."

"Dean..." Sam fidgeted. Dean didn't even look at him anymore. He just kept on staring out the window as if there was something that needed his utmost attention. His window only looked out to an ivy-riddled brick wall of the neighbour building.

"C'mon, Dean. You've barely eaten all week. You need to eat to get better. The doctor said-"

"You don't need to take care of me, Sam." Dean said quietly, not even looking at him. "I'm not gonna get better."

"Don't say that." Sam retorted angrily. "It's the 21st century. You'll get better."

Dean huffed, the sound twisting Sam's stomach unpleasantly. He was barely in his mid-twenties, and yet Dean sounded as if he had aged ten more years in only just two. "I'm tired, Sammy." He said, his voice low and rough. "Of everything."

The numbness that coiled around Sam's chest became tighter and tighter. Sam dragged a chair over to Dean's bedside, his once bright, strong brother now so frail and weak and _lifeless_. When was the last time they had shared a laugh? 

"Well, the Impala misses you." Sam said carefully. "Remember that road trip you wanted to go on after I graduated? You can't exactly do that if you don't get better any time soon."

"It's just a far-off dream." Dean mumbled. "Even after I get better, I'll just be stuck in this place for the rest of my life."

"What? Why?"

"I don't have the money for it." He turned to meet Sam's eyes. They spoke of exhaustion, and Sam wondered briefly if he also wore the same look on his face. "Nor the time."

"If it's the money, I said I'll pay your savings back after I start my internship in a few years." Sam replied slowly. They had talked about this before, and Sam was set on repaying his brother no matter how much he refused.

Dean shook his head once and turned his face towards the window again. "I'm not you. I could dream about it, yeah. But I'll never actually set out to get it done. It's not for me. Nor do I care." His shoulders slumped slightly. "I really don't care anymore. I'm tired."

"Dean..."

"Just drop it, Sam." Dean said sharply.

"I-"

A knock at the front door interrupted Sam's thought process. They both looked at each other in confusion. The next doctor's appointment wasn't until after three week, and Bobby had visited last month. Sam stumbled out of his chair and looked through the peephole. He saw a tuff of dark hair that he didn't recognize.

He opened the door a little and stared at the man standing in front of him with his big blue eyes. "Can I help you?" he never had to deal with any supposedly oncoming rapture talk because they lived in an apartment, and he wanted to keep it that way. He stayed mostly hidden behind the door.

"Hello." The man's voice was unexpectedly gruff and low, surprising Sam. He held his gaze with Sam, which made him shift a little uncomfortably. "I have recently moved in next door."

Did people in apartments even say hello to their neighbours? "Um." Sam said intelligently.

"I was told that greeting the neighbour was the ways of polite etiquette." He said, either not noticing Sam's obvious discomfort, or choosing to ignore it.

"Right." Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, well, nice to meet you, uh-"

"Castiel." He extended a hand and Sam shook it firmly twice. 

"Sam." He heard a hacking cough from behind him. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Castiel. I'll see you around?" he said quickly, wanting to make sure Dean was all right.

Castiel took the cue to leave and Sam shut the door quietly behind him. Castiel didn't seem that much older than him, so he must be a student as well. The thought of school left a hurtful pang in Sam's chest, so he chased the thought away as he entered Dean's room.

He was staring out the window again. Sam cleared his throat, but Dean didn't show that he acknowledged his presence. Sam settled himself against the wooden chair again, this time with a textbook in hand. If he can't find a temporary job, well, he won't let himself fall behind and forget everything he put effort into before he left school for a year. He only had to wait one more semester anyways, and he didn't want to be clueless when he went back to his classes, his memories wiped clean by all the tragedies . 

Dean's chest heaved a little, probably from all the coughing, before asking, "Who was it?"

Sam shrugged. "Some guy who moved in next door, apparently? He wanted to say hi."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Sam scanned the page he was on. He _was_ forgetting everything, christ. "Said his name was Castiel."

Dean turned his head with a frown at that. "Castiel?" he echoed.

Sam shrugged again.

"What kinda name is that?"

"Beats me. I think he might be a student." He said thoughtfully.

Dean's shoulders tensed. Sam frowned in confusion, and soon heard the reason for it. "I'm sorry you have to be stuck at home cuz of me." He said quietly.

"Dean, I took time off because I was _stabbed_." Sam threw his hands up. "You just happened to catch pneumonia at a very convenient time so I can nurse you back to health because you're a baby when it comes to being sick."

Dean scowled. "Shut up, bitch." 

"Jerk."

Dean's lips twitched upwards a little and looked outside again. "Yeah, well, you know."

"I know." Sam replied earnestly.

 

Sam caught glimpses of Castiel over the course of the next few days. They nodded at each other in acknowledgement while checking for mail, held the door at the front for each other sometimes when one's hands were full with groceries, and had occasional meetings in the elevator. They usually rode the elevator in silence. Sam didn't really want to engage in small talks, not when he had so much in his mind, and Castiel seemed content on staring at the corner of the elevator throughout the whole ride.

It was during one of the elevator rides that rode all the up to their tenth floor when curiosity won over Sam one day. "So are you a student at Stanford?"

Castiel turned his head slowly to make eye contacts before replying, "I am. Are you?"

Sam's throat suddenly seemed to stop working. This was a bad idea after all. "I'm taking a year off." He said with a tight smile.

Castiel tilted his head a little. The motion reminded Sam of birds that were trying to figure out what they were looking at. "May I ask why?"

Stating that he just needed the time off wouldn't have been a lie. It was vague enough, and Castiel was essentially a stranger that Sam barely knew. It would have been weird for a non-Winchester to go into the details of exactly why he needed the year off, to get away from everything and hole up in the apartment with his sick brother. So it would definitely be weird for a Winchester, who never talked about anything to _anyone_ in fear of it biting them back on the ass, to put their trust on a man they barely knew.

But Castiel's gaze was non-judging, honest, merely curious and unlike the people who knew of Sam and Dean's story, non-pitying. "I was stabbed and needed few surgeries for it. It took me a while to recover, and now that my brother's down with pneumonia, I need to take care of him so I need all the time I can get, you know?"

Sam surprised himself after the words were out. In a moment of panic, he wondered why he thought this was a good idea. He braced himself for the pitying words, the usual questions of how he was stabbed and the empty sorrys. He almost winced as he watched Castiel watch him, and drew a blank at his next words.

"That is admirable of you, Sam." There was no pity behind those words, nor faked awe. Only the conviction that Castiel seemed to absolutely mean what he said was conveyed to Sam, and Sam was more than grateful. 

Which was why his next words were, "Uhm, thanks. Hey, what are you majoring in?"

 

Castiel double majored in physics and theology, and was now a graduate student. Why he chose to double major in two subjects that were the polar opposite of each other, Sam will never understand, but he can't blame him for wanting to study what he was interested in. Sam had a newfound friendship that slowly grew over cups of coffee, often coming back from Castiel's apartment with stories to tell Dean about. As much as Sam loved his brother, it was nice to have company who wasn't Dean and retreat back to a normal social life after everything.

Dean seemed amused at first when Sam came back to tell him about Castiel. After a week, Sam noticed the resigned smile and the distant eyes Dean had on his face as he listened to Sam talk.

"Nothing's changed." Sam said to Castiel the day after. "So I don't know why he's got this- this _look_ that has 'this is the last day of my life' written all over his face."

Castiel seemed to ponder over Sam's words. "Perhaps your brother misses your constant company."

"I- Really?"

"From what I understand, your brother loves you very much, Sam." Castiel said with a sip of his coffee. "You have been a constant in his life for a long time, but ever since you've started conversing with me, you haven't been around the apartment as much as you used to be." He gently set his mug down. "Maybe your brother thinks that I have become more important to you than he, and he is resigning himself for the impact it will bring him when the time comes that you realize this said 'fact'."

"Uh." Sam bit his bottom lip as he rubbed over his temple. Of course. He's been neglecting his brother to get away from having to tend to him all the time. It was somewhat amazing how well Castiel understood Dean's thought process just by listening to Sam's stories about him. A solution washed over him like a revelation and he beat himself up for not thinking of it sooner. 

Later that day, Sam found Dean by the couch mindlessly watching the reruns of _Dr. Sexy_. He seemed bored and somewhere between lifeless and exhausted. 

"Hey." Sam called, setting his keys and groceries down on the kitchen table. He glanced around the kitchen, nothing moved. "Did you eat anything at _all_ today?"

Dean shrugged as a reply as he flipped the channel during the commercial break.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel said, stepping into the view from behind Sam.

Dean jumped, almost dropping the remote controller. "Jesus fucking _christ_!" Sam couldn't help but be amused at his startled expression. He heaved a shaky breath before turning to glare at both Sam and Castiel. "A little warning would've been nice."

"I apologize." Castiel said, hovering around the living room awkwardly, as if he didn't know what to do with himself.

Sam cleared his throat a little. "Dean, this is Castiel. Castiel, this is my idiot brother, Dean." Sam narrowly dodged the couch cushion that was thrown at him. "You can sit at the couch. Did you want anything to drink?"

"Coffee would suffice, thank you." Castiel replied politely.

It was Dean's turn to shuffle around awkwardly before getting up to leave the living room. "Dude, where're you going?" Sam asked.

"You have company over." Dean grumbled. "I'll be in my room."

"It's fine, Dean." Sam said, glancing over at Castiel. "It's fine, right?" He asked, more to reassure Dean than confirm with Castiel. He knew that Castiel was fine with it.

"Of course. Your presence is welcome, Dean. This is your home." Castiel said, his eyes not once leaving Dean's. 

Dean narrowed his eyes. "I have pneumonia."

"I have updated shots." Castiel replied calmly.

They stared at each other as if in some kind of unspoken fight, long enough for Sam to feel uncomfortable. "Did you want anything, Dean?" Sam asked again, breaking the silence.

Dean sighed, walking back to the couch. "Some soup would be nice."

 

It took a few visits before Dean warmed up to Castiel. At first, he barely spoke during Castiel's visits as he watched Sam converse with him, only throwing a few remarks here and there. It was when Castiel admitted having next to no knowledge on classical rock that set Dean off on a passionate frenzy. Sam observed in amazement as he watched his brother become more animated around Castiel than he had the past two years. When Sam felt confident that his brother was acquainted enough with Castiel to leave them alone without Sam's presence, he took the role of going back to the kitchen to refill the mugs with coffee. He listened to the quiet chuckles coming from the living room and smiled a little in contentment. Not everything was back in place, but they were getting better. They were healing, and they were allowed to have this.

Dean's conversation with Sam mainly consisted of Castiel, how interesting he was for a nerdy little dude, how his lack of knowledge on pop culture was hilarious, and _man, could you believe his voice? It's like he eats metal parts for fun_. Sam silently thanked his past self to have thought of bringing Castiel over instead of going to his apartment all the time so Dean could have the company other than Sam, but he was a little surprised that Dean would get along with Castiel so well. 

"Cas told me that he never even watched _Lord of the Rings_. What kinda shithole did he grow up in to not have watched _Lord of the Rings_?" Dean was saying with a certain glow on his face. It took a second for Sam to register that 'Cas' was Castiel. They've never called him anything else than Castiel until now.

"Maybe we should invite him over for a movie night one day, then." Sam said with a smile.

Dean smiled back faintly, and Sam mentally fist pumped in the air. It was a small smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Yeah. That'd be good."

A knock at the front door indicated Castiel's arrival. Dean tensed up visibly, and Sam huffed. "What, you nervous all of a sudden?"

"Shut up." Dean grumbled, sinking back into his bed. Sam cocked his eyebrows at Dean's strange reaction and left his room to let Castiel in.

It wasn't Castiel. Sam had almost forgotten that it was the day of the appointment and he let the doctor in. He walked him down to Dean's room, and watched as Dean's face falter a little from disappointment. 

The doctor, however, was pleasantly surprised. "Look at you, Dean. You've improved so much in just over three week!"

It was true. Ever since Castiel's arrival in the Winchester's lives, Dean had been getting his healthy glow back, even if the process was slow. 

After the usual checkup and the instruction for the medicine, Sam escorted the doctor to the front door, and asked how his brother was doing."He's finally recovering. It's like he's letting himself recover." The doctor smiled again. "Your brother isn't the only stubborn patient I've ever had, but it's good to see that he's finally trying to get better."

Just then, a quiet knock came from the door. This time, Sam knew for certain, would be Castiel. "Hey." Sam said with the door in his hand.

"Hello, Sam." Castiel glanced at the doctor. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, no. Come in." Sam said, stepping aside. Castiel nodded an acknowledgement to both of them before making his way to Dean's room with familiarity in his steps. Sam heard a muffled "Hello, Dean" and a "Hey" exchanged before they settled into a conversation that Sam couldn't make the words out of.

The doctor looked at where Castiel had disappeared into, and smiled. "Who was that?"

"Neighbour. He's been keeping us company for some time." Sam replied, changing his focus back to the doctor.

The doctor seemed to ponder over this. "He got his shots?" Sam nodded. "He been around Dean while he's been getting better?"

"Yeah." Sam smiled. "He's been good for us."

The doctor nodded in agreement and huffed in amusement. "Love conquers all, is it?"

Sam frowned in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Isn't he Dean's... You know? Why else would he be getting better so quickly all of a sudden?"

Sam blinked, dumbfounded. "No." Sam blurted out. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. He quickly gathered his wits and added, "Not yet."

"Shame. Well, keep up the good work, Sam." The doctor clapped him on the shoulder firmly. "I'll do everything in the power of science to help your brother. It's about damned time you two are happy." The doctor knew of their situation. It was easier to tell him everything if it meant convincing him to visit them in their apartment. "If you can get Dean better enough to ask me about the next season premier of _Dr. Sexy_ the next time I visit, I'll even promise you that his chance of getting better will be one in five instead of one in ten."

"Thank you." Sam breathed. The doctor gave him a quick nod and left.

Sam peaked his head over Dean's room. After the conversation with the doctor, he saw it pretty easily now. The way Dean's whole posture relaxed around Castiel, how his eyes smiled with him wholeheartedly, and the way he seemed completely at ease with Castiel. 

Well, he'll be damned. His brother had a crush on Castiel.

Sam cleared his throat, and had both of their attention. "Coffee, Cas?" Sam asked, his brother's nickname slipping out naturally.

Castiel didn't seem to mind. "Please."

By the time Sam came back with two mugs of coffee and a glass of water, Dean was groaning into his hands. "Man, I can't believe you've never watched a single Batman movie. What do you do in your spare time?"

"I paint, mostly."

Sam had seen the easel and the half finished canvases around Castiel's apartment. He remembered wondering how Castiel had managed to find the time to paint in between his double majors. 

"Paint?" Dean gawked. "So you can draw?"

"I prefer painting over drawing, but I can draw a little." Castiel replied. "I require the skill a little in order to paint." He said, the hinted amusement in his tone.

Dean shoved a pencil and a piece of paper at Castiel. "Show me. Draw something."

"Dean..." Sam said, exasperated.

"What?" Dean asked nonchalantly. "Coming from a family with no artistic talent, I think that's pretty cool. I just wanna see. C'mon, Cas."

Castiel rolled his eyes in an you're-an-idiot-but-I-still-find-it-endearing sort of way, and took the pieces from Dean's hands. "What would you like me to draw?"

Dean lifted his glass of water. "This. Draw this."

Castiel stared at Dean for a minute before effortlessly penciling out a long square U on the paper. He drew a line inside the U and turned it around for Dean to see.

Dean puffed out a laugh. "What is this?"

"A glass of water."

"Ah, c'mon. Be more serious." Dean said, almost a whine.

Castiel let out a quiet chuckle. "I will show you my paintings in the apartment. After you are better."

After Dean was better. Sam played the easily said words in his head repeatedly. Sam knew Castiel was talking about the pneumonia , but he couldn't help but feel a little more reassured of the situation than before. 

It was a long way from what he found on Google about severe depression, but it was a start. 

"Do you have any finished pieces?" Sam asked thoughtfully. "I don't remember seeing any around your place."

Castiel hummed. "I have a few. They were more of a therapeutic way of de-stressing through college than for show. I've been wanting to paint something that spoke volume for some time instead of my mindless doodles."

"Like a masterpiece?" Sam teased.

"Something like that, yes." Castiel answered, almost sheepishly.

Dean chuckled, clapping Castiel on the back. "Alrighty there, Van Gogh."

"I just have a different set of interest, Dean. There is nothing wrong with that." Castiel said seriously, though a faint smile hovered over his mouth.

"Hey, I never said there was anything _wrong_ with it." Dean said. "Seriously, though. How do you grow up without watching at least one Batman movie?"

Castiel's eyebrows shot up, as if they were shrugging. "I was educated in my house until college."

"Okay, so you were home-schooled." Dean dragged out. "It's called the internet. Or you know, first year of college. How did you get through the first year of college without watching _one_ movie? Your friends didn't educate you?"

"I didn't have friends." Castiel replied simply.

Sam sipped his coffee. Awkward.

Dean blinked. "Okay." He gulped down his glass of water, wincing as it went down. "Okay, but you have friends now. Friends don't let friends get away in life without watching at least one DC or Marvel movie."

Castiel stared without words.

"What I mean is," Dean said slowly, as if explaining to a child. Sam realized only then that Dean seemed a little nervous. "You could come over and we could have a movie night one day. Y'know, marathon _Lord of the Rings_ , watch some _Dark Knight_ movies?" 

Castiel's expression softened. "That would be nice." He said, looking thoroughly pleased. For Castiel, anyways.

Dean's tensed shoulders relaxed. "Sounds good. We can start with Tolkien."

It sounded more like a date now, Sam mused. A little tug at his heart had him understand how Dean felt before Sam had introduced Castiel to include Dean into the circle. Sam dully wondered where he would go on this said movie night when his attention snapped back to both of them staring at him expectantly. "What?" he blinked.

"I asked if tomorrow is good for you, Sam." Castiel said.

"It's a Friday, so we can watch everything throughout the weekend." Dean added. "You're not doing anything, are you?"

"Uhm, no." Sam replied, a little bewildered. "Am I included in this?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Of course you're included, Sam." Castiel answered.

"But-" He halted, and looked at both of them. Clueless.

Christ. They were clueless.

He hid his laugh into his mug. "Yeah, tomorrow is good."

Oh boy.

 

Sam was finishing up on cleaning the dishes after Castiel had left when he turned around to see Dean leaned against the fridge with his arms crossed. Sam raised his eyebrows in question. Dean seemed to study Sam a little dubiously before blurting out, "You know, if you want to go out with your college friends, you know it's okay with me, right?"

"Yes." Sam drew out his answer. He scrunched his face up in amusement. "I'm not ten anymore, Dean."

"Okay." Dean gave a sharp nod. "Okay, so I know you like Cas, and you were the one to suggest the whole movie night thing, so what was that back there?"

Oh. So this was what it was about. "Nothing, Dean." Sam gave a rogue smile.

"I mean, I understand if you want to get out-"

"Dean-"

"-And it's not like you need to force yourself to hang out with me-"

"God, Dean. I thought it was a date." Sam blurted out, frustrated.

That shut Dean up for a few seconds. "I- What?"

"I thought you were asking Cas for a date." Sam said slowly.

Dean stared at him incredulously. "Wha- Jesus, Sam, I can't ask him out on a date when I have _pneumonia_! I don't even know if he likes guys." he said with a flush.

"So..."

They didn't need to say the unspoken 'I'd hit that otherwise'. Dean scowled. "Shut the hell up." He said, his face now turning into an incredible shade of red. He turned on his heels and retreated back into his room.

"Should I leave the house tomorrow after all?" Sam teased, following after his brother.

"I said shut the hell up, Samantha!" Dean stated. "Tomorrow is a _family_ movie night."

"Right." Sam replied dryly. "Just make sure to keep it, you know, PG-13."

Dean retreated to his bedroom while flipping Sam the bird. Sam cackled in delight. 

 

It was an honest to good fun weekend. They ordered pizza and wings with cheap beer (for Sam and Castiel, of course. Dean mainly complained, "Dude, having pneumonia _sucks_ " as he woefully stared down at his dressing-free salad, miso soup and glass of water), rented out a bunch of movies and squatted on the couch (Sam made sure that Dean was in the middle) while they watched the crisis unravel on Middle Earth. Sam and Dean both provided commentary as Castiel watched with the concentration of an undergrad during the last fifteen minutes of their final exam. They took bathroom breaks and breaks in between movies to keep the circulations going in their legs. At one point, while Dean was gone to the washroom, Sam fiddled with his beer cap as he spoke to Castiel.

"You know, thank you." He said.

Castiel frowned in confusion.

"Thank you for, you know, being here. For all this. It means a lot." Sam continued. He seemed to have developed some type of lump on the back of his throat all of a sudden. "He's been pretty down because of stuff but he's pretty awesome once you get to know him." He quietly chuckled. "You knew that already though, didn't you?"

Castiel's frown only deepened. "I don't understand why you are thanking me, Sam." He said, his blue eyes glimmering against the paused screen light. "I am choosing to spend my time here with you and Dean, not because I am forced to do so."

"Yeah well," Sam said with a shrug. "He's hard to crack, so thanks for cracking him."

"I enjoy Dean's company." Castiel said simply, as if that was enough. And it was.

Dean decided to let his presence known at that moment by clearing his throat, and judging from his smirk, he _knew_. Sam rolled his eyes when Dean walked by and said "Love you too, Sammy" while batting his eyelashes. Sam threw a pillow at him, which only missed and hit Castiel on the face instead.

And, well, if Dean sat a little closer to Castiel after that break, Sam pretended to not notice.

 

Two nights after the movie weekend, Sam startled awake. He listened to what might have woken him up, but he didn't hear anything except the soft buzzing of the fridge from the kitchen. He cocked his head to stare at his alarm clock on the bedside, which indicated that it was almost three in the morning. He sighed and rolled back into his bed, slowly drifting back to sleep.

Then he heard it. A muffled sob.

It was so sudden and subtle, and the silence that followed after it went on for so long that Sam almost started to believe that he's imagined it when he heard another one. This time, Sam shuffled out of bed and quietly made his way out to the hallway.

He stood in front of Dean's room, not knowing what to do. It was completely silent in the house when Sam heard a sharp intake of breath from behind the door, and his decision was made. He softly knocked on the door. "Dean?"

No words. No nothing.

Sam tried again. "Dean? Can I come in?"

Again, nothing. Sam narrowed his eyes at the door as if it personally offended him, and spoke. "Dean, I know you're awake. I won't bite."

Sam was starting to worry that he was mistaken when Dean's strained voice carried through the door. "What, did you have nightmares or something Sammy?"

Sam rolled his eyes. Him and his fake bravado. "Yeah, I had a dream that I jump-started the apocalypse. I need your comfort and hugs."

He heard a huff of amusement. Taking that as an invitation, Sam opened the door slowly. Dean was sitting up on his bed in the dark. Sam contemplated turning the lights on, but decided against it after a good look at Dean.

He was a wreck. He was staring aimlessly at his hands that were sprawled over his laps, refusing to look at Sam. His whole posture seemed tense in a way of a frightened cat, ready to bolt at any moment, and yet held no strength, as if he would crumble away at the slightest touch. Sam carefully set himself on the bed by Dean's feet, clasped his hands together in front of him, and looked at Dean without words. They sat still in the silence for a few minutes before Sam broke it.

"What happened?" Sam asked softly, in fear of sounding like he was accusing him.

Dean stifled a half-sob, half-gasp and quietly spoke. "Nothing." He said, his voice raspy from the silenced crying.

"You know I'm here for you, Dean. You can tell me." Sam said gently.

"I just told you." Dean snapped through gritted teeth. "Nothing."

Sam's worry must have shown in the dark, because Dean glanced and barked out a harsh laugh. "That's what's so fucked up about this. I don't have a _reason_. I was so happy just few days ago, and yet here I am, wishing I can't feel a damn thing." A tear escaped Dean's eyes. "I was so happy when Cas was here and you were here and we were all just having a good time and I was happy just _yesterday_ and for some reason I feel godawful about _everything_ right now and I honestly don't have a _reason_ to be all antsy over nothing-"

Dean stopped abruptly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, only to cough uncontrollably. Sam handed him the glass of water that they keep by his bedside, and Dean took a sip before setting it back down. Dean rested his head between his hands. He drew out a shaky breath.

"I was so happy during the weekend." He repeated again like it was his personal mantra. "So why is it that I feel so miserable right now?" he said, barely a whisper. "Why can't I just _stay_ happy? Is something so wrong with me that I can't be happy anymore? How fucked up am I, exactly? I-" He wiped his face with his hand, covering his eyes and the tears that ran down his cheeks. "Why am I telling you this?"

"What? Dean, no, you can tell me." Sam coaxed.

"No, I _can't_." Dean gritted out. "I'm suppose to _protect_ you, Sammy, not lay my shit out for you to deal with-"

" _Dean_! Jesus, man, _look_ at me."

Dean halted, and glared. " _What_?"

Sam ran his hand over his hair, trying to find the words out of his head before he lost his grip on the them during the fleeting frustration. "I-" The words were already gone. God damn it all. He took a deep breath. Another one. He opened his eyes to see his brother watching him wearily. 

He tried again. "Dean." Sam called calmly, grounding himself. "I won't push you if you don't want to talk to me about it, because you're not ready or whatever."

"Okay, now get out of my-"

"But." Sam interrupted. Dean gave him an tired, exasperated look, which Sam decidedly ignored. "If you need to talk to someone about this and you're not talking about it with me because you think it'll, hell, I don't know, _burden_ me or something equally stupid that your over-analyzing brain came up with this time, I just want you to know that I am here for you to talk to." Sam gave him a pointed look. "So we can figure this shit out."

"Sammy-"

"No, Dean." Sam stopped him again. Dean sighed. "I am a full-grown adult who can take care of himself. Hell, if you feel uncomfortable talking about this with me, then go talk to Cas. I'm sure he'd be willing to listen."

Dean threw his hands up. "I'm not gonna go talk to _Cas_ about this. What the hell would I say to the dude? 'Hey, I know we met only like, a month ago, but here are all the problems that's been crippling me since I don't remember when and I just wanted you to see how fucked up I really am. Wanna go out for dinner on Friday?'"

Sam would've laughed if it wasn't for the gravity of the situation. He shrugged instead. "If that's what works, then yeah."

"Sam." Dean called, frustrated that Sam apparently wasn't on the same page. "Cas doesn't _deserve_ to deal with all of my baggage."

"But-"

Dean shook his head wearily. "Tired, Sam." He croaked. "I'm tired. Let's get some shut eyes."

Seeing the clear dismissal, Sam sighed. "Yeah, all right. Get some rest."

Dean shrugged, and slid back into his sheets without further words.

 

Castiel hadn't visited them since the movie weekend. It's been a week, and Sam hadn't seen him around the apartment either, so it was really starting to worry him. Castiel had been a constant in their lives for a little over a month now, and not having him there for more than one day was odd. It was as if he had carved places for himself around their apartment complex. On the far left side of the couch watching a movie, by the kitchen with his physics labs sprawled all over the dining table, beside Dean's bedside sipping his cup of coffee. Sam begrudgingly realized that they didn't even have the guy's number on their cells, mostly because he was over so much that they didn't have the need for it.

Sam watched his brother, who seemed so happy and had smiled and was _alive_ for a month, crumble back into the weak little man with the face of death hovering over his shoulder over the course of a week. The apartment was eerily quiet with neither of them speaking much to each other since the night they talked. 

To be honest, Sam wasn't really sure how he was suppose to approach Dean again after the whole event, and indulged himself into researching more about the ways to support ones suffering from depression. Most suggested talking it out with the person, which hasn't worked, and even more suggested showing the intent to be supportive, which he already did. 

He glanced at the clock and _shit_ , it was almost three and he hadn't cooked anything for Dean all day. He hadn't heard him move from his room either, which meant Dean probably hasn't eaten all day. Sam scrambled to the kitchen, cooked some food up, put it all on a tray and headed to Dean's room.

When he entered and saw Dean sitting up on his bed, he suddenly had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Dean was looking out the window with the same focus again, except he was mumbling to himself. 

"Twelve." He said, then turned to Sam, eyed the food unenthusiastically, and turned back to the window. Sam set it down by the bedside, and cautiously sat by his bed. 

"Aren't you hungry?" Sam asked, struggling to keep the fright out of his voice. Something was terribly wrong, and he was almost too scared to find out and understand what was going on.

Dean shook his head a little in response, and whispered under his breath, "Eleven." 

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"Nothing." He mumbled.

Sam eyed the window, but the view hadn't changed. It was the same neighbour building, the same brick wall with the same ivy vines crawling upwards. It was the transition period between Autumn and Winter, and the cold wind struck at its leaves, leaving the brick wall almost bare with nothing but the ivy's former glory spoken through its slowly decaying skeleton. 

"Ten." Dean started again after a while. Sam felt the chill on his back as he encountered this frail Dean that he's never seen before. 

"Tell me, Dean." Sam asked, almost begging.

Dean glanced at Sam, and something must've shown that nabbed at his resolve to not tell Sam. "The ivy leaves."

Whacking down a hornet's nest was probably less painful than trying to get information out of Dean Winchester. "Why?"

Dean shrugged. Sam groaned with frustration at the response. It was so typical of him to not tell him _anything_. To not relay _anything_ to him, to burden himself with everything and not let anyone else help him-

No. Sam had to remain calm and be patient.

Perhaps if it was any other occasions, he would've brushed it off as something silly. Dean was probably bored stuck in the house like this all the time, so he just started counting leaves. Sure, it was a little scary watching him mumble to himself like he was having a mental breakdown, but if it kept him amused, then hey, who was Sam to say anything?

Except it wasn't. It wasn't just counting leaves, and Sam's gut instinct screamed that there was something else going on. Something that Dean wasn't telling him. Again. The counting sounded more ominous than anything, so if Sam had to sit there and bugged Dean, _begged_ him, to tell him the reason why he was counting the leaves on the ivy vine, then he will.

So Sam sat beside Dean with his textbook in his hands, and popped the question frequently enough to drive a normal person insane. The counting was down to four and the time was around eleven when Dean finally slipped out, "I just want to see the last one fall."

Sam perked up in his chair at a new response that wasn't a "I'm not telling you" or a "Nothing" or a "It's not anything". "Uh, why?" Sam asked.

Dean gave him the stink eye, and Sam pulled the best puppy eyes face that he had in store. Dean sighed with resignation. "I just... I don't know, man. There were at least a few hundred a month ago, and look at it now, all of them shriveled and crumbly and dying on the side of the street. It's almost like..."

The words were out before he could stop himself. "Like you." Sam finished dryly.

Dean shrugged, but it was enough of a confirmation for Sam. They were both quiet for a bit, until Dean spoke matter-of-factly. "I just want to see the last one fall. Then I'll go too."

Sam suspected it, but it still felt like someone had dropped an anchor that was attached to him into the ocean and dragged him downwards into the bottom until he couldn't breathe anymore. The tears formed pretty quickly, and Sam did nothing to stop them. They streamed down his face with guilt and grief more than anything else, and did what any rational person at the moment would have done.

He stomped over to the window and closed the curtains, despite Dean's outright objections and protests to leave them open. 

"Sam, open the curtains." Dean replied sharply. 

"No." Sam said shakily. "No, Dean, you are not allowed to do this to me." Sam choked back a sob. "Not after mom and dad and Jo and Ellen."

"I'm allowed to do whatever the hell I want." Dean hissed back. "Now open the god damned curtains before I do it myself."

" _Dean_ , listen to yourself!" Sam said, his voice becoming louder and louder. "Those leaves have _nothing_ to do with you getting better! The doctor even said that his next visit might be his last because of how much you've improved, but all you've been doing lately is just sit in your bed all day and not even touch your food like you're already halfway there!"

"I don't _want_ to get better, Sam."

"Why not?" Sam asked hysterically.

"Because!" Dean was yelling now, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. His whole body seemed to be shaking. " _You_ may see something at the end of this, but _I_ don't! Yeah, you'll graduate out of law school and be a lawyer and leave me to rot here alone-"

"I wouldn't do that to you-"

"-and then what, Sammy? What happens after you find a nice girl and settle and get married? All I have here is a job that I don't even _want_ , fixing other people's problems while I can't even handle my own god damned problems!" 

They glared at each other during the paused silence.

Dean deflated, all the fight leaving him. "I'm tired. I don't have anything to live for, so what's the point? I'm exhausted. I just want everything to be over."

Sam covered his face with his hand and turned towards the wall, unable to face Dean. He took a moment to smother the urge to shake Dean by the shoulders until he snapped out of this. "You have me. And Bobby. And Cas." He said slowly, trying to regulate his sobbing.

Dean only shook his head in response.

Sam wiped away his tears, trying to calm himself down as he breathed out of his mouth. "Promise me this." He said, facing Dean again. Dean stared back blankly. "Promise that you won't look outside until after we sleep on this and talk about this tomorrow with a clear head."

"Sam, I don't need to sleep on this. Today really isn't the first day I've thought of it." Dean replied coldly.

" _Promise me_." Sam said bitterly through gritted teeth. "And sleep. _Please_."

Dean heaved a little before rolling over on his bed. "I'm tired of thinking and waiting. Let me know when you're ready to talk tomorrow." He said, pulling his sheets up to his shoulders.

Sam went back to his room and sank into his bed. He held his head between his hands and just breathed, trying to not think about anything. He considered alcohol, but put the thought away in disgust after remembering dad, after Dean, after himself. So he sat on his bed in the silence, suffering and trying to wrap his head around the current situation. 

He wasn't sure how long he stayed that way, still and stagnant in his room until he heard the keys jingling outside. He snapped his head up and stomped to the living room. He opened the front door and looked out the hallway without a second thought and-

"Hello, Sam." Castiel said tiredly, standing in front of his own apartment with the keys in his hands. He was soaked from head to toe, and looked drained. 

"Hey." Sam said faintly. "Good to see you, Cas."

Castiel frowned and squinted a little at him. "Are you all right?" he asked, opening his door. He gestured a silent invite for Sam, which he accepted gratefully. 

"We haven't heard from you for a while." Sam asked instead. He realized he must've looked like a mess. He always did after crying.

"Yes." Castiel shrugged off his trench coat with a sigh. It landed on the chair with a sickening 'plop', soaking the spot. "I have been tutoring undergraduates and help them catch up for the midterms as well as finish my own physics lab reports with my group. I had to sleep over at their dormitory, because it was easier to access the lab and I wished to finish them as soon as possible. Excuse me." He left to change out of his wet clothes. Sam leaned all of his weight onto the kitchen countertop, the pressure against his palms helping him slowly come to his senses. He shouldn't even be here, with Dean so broken next door.

"I hate group works." Castiel declared with a shake of his head as he stepped out with a towel, dabbing the water away. Sam huffed in agreement. "Sam, what's happened?"

Sam was once again faced with Castiel's honest, opened gaze. The same gaze that invited him to unload his problems before. "It's Dean." He whispered, unable to be any louder.

Castiel straightened a little.

"He's- He was really upset the other night. He's become so _broken_ and god, Cas-" Sam felt the tears breaking out again. "I should've been able to prevent this from happening, but I couldn't. I don't know what to do and I'm scared of losing Dean because just today, just now, he kept talking like he's about to disintegrate into thin air and-"

"Sam." Castiel called calmly. "Sit down and tell me what happened."

So Sam opened up and told Castiel about the dying ivies outside of Dean's room window, how indeed Dean had become as fragile and weak as the ivy leaves that kept falling, and how Dean was losing the grip he had on the world. By the time Sam was done talking, his eyes stung from crying so much in the course of few hours, doubtlessly red and puffed.

Castiel was visibly upset afterwards. "I have not heard anything more foolish than the being that is your brother until now." He said. "Has he no self-worth at all?"

Sam scorned. "It's a family trait." 

Castiel shot him a glare. "Sam, you are a wonderful person and have one of the brightest minds I have had the pleasure of meeting. Do not let yourself think otherwise."

Sam huffed. "It's a little hard after our dad had a bit of a different opinion about us for the past twenty something odd years." Sam swallowed. His throat always seemed to strangely close off around Castiel. "But uh, thank you." He said.

Castiel became very still and quiet. Sam thought he had finally found a topic that was uncomfortable for Castiel, but after a good look, he realized his words only angered Castiel even more.

"Your father had no right to say such things." He bit out, his blue eyes dangerously intense and his voice laced with anger.

Sam waved him aside. "It's all history. No point in beating a dead horse." He winced at that, the wording a little too close to the truth for the situation that Castiel obviously had no ideas of. When he glanced away, he noticed the clock on the microwave, which blared out to Sam's tired eyes that it was almost four o'clock. "Jesus, Cas, you should've said something." He said. "You must be exhausted. Didn't you say you came back right after finishing those projects?"

Castiel turned to look at what Sam was talking about. "I didn't realize either." He replied blearily, holding his hand up before Sam could say anything. "Do not apologize, Sam. I am glad you decided I am important enough to be told about Dean, and I am even more glad that I found out before it was too late."

Oh god, did he just ruin Dean's chance at Castiel? "Too late for what?"

Castiel stared at Sam with a frown like the idiot that he was. "To stop him from attempting suicide."

Sam blinked. "Right, of course."

"For now, you must get some rest." Castiel said, standing up. "I will come by tomorrow morning to talk to Dean."

Sam relaxed a little at his reassuring words. "Yeah. Having you over should cheer him up." Sam turned on his heels to face Castiel before leaving. "Thank you." He rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted. "For listening. You helped a lot."

Castiel nodded. "Sleep well, Sam."

"G'night, Cas."

After Sam went back to his room, he checked the view outside of his window. The window in his room faced the same way as Dean's, so he had a pretty clear view of the ivies with a streetlight on the sidewalk that shone its orange light onto the brick wall. 

Usually, that is.

Sam had forgotten how dripping wet Castiel was when he came back, and realized the rain must have been going for a while. The sinking feeling came back when he understood that the ivies were most likely to not survive the raging rainstorm that was going on outside. He squinted with little hope of seeing the ivies, but it was hard to make anything out, let alone the brick wall.

He laid his weary head to rest, weeping for his brother.

 

As soon as Sam opened his eyes, he busied himself with house chores. He cleaned the apartment, which has admittedly been neglected for a while, and did the dishes that were stacked up in the sink, anything that would keep him from having to wake Dean any sooner. He knew it was coming, but he could always try to delay the inevitable and maybe Dean changed his mind and wasn't as miserable after sleeping. 

He frowned when he saw the tray of food from last night sitting on the kitchen counter, none of it touched. He glanced at the clock and sighed as it slowly reached its way to nine. He wasn't sure when Castiel was going to visit them, but when he heard a soft cry of his name from Dean's room, Sam wished Castiel would hurry over.

He popped his head by the door and asked, "What?" He hoped he was nonchalant enough.

Dean was having none of it. "I want to see." He said slowly.

Sam stepped into his room reluctantly. "Dean-"

"Sam." He called with finality.

Wearily, Sam obeyed.

Instead of a bare wall they were both expecting, one single yellowed ivy leaf stood out against the red brick wall, still a little dark green near its stem. It clung stubbornly on its branch alone as if fighting for the rest of its fallen comrades. 

"It held out against the storm." Dean said with a frown, while Sam gaped at it. "Well, it'll fall today eventually."

Sam snapped back to attention. "Dean, if you can't do this for yourself, then at least think of me." He begged. "What would I do?"

Dean didn't reply. 

Sam did his best to get Dean away from his room all day all the while having the curtains shut. He made him sit on the couch outside in the living room, forced him to eat something and put on marathons of _Dr. Sexy_ , hoping to at least see some sparks of amusement in his brother's tired eyes. 

Castiel didn't visit them. He didn't seem like someone who would break promises, but then again, Sam has only known him for a little over a month. It was possible that he decided to back out at the last minute, and Sam really couldn't blame the guy. He thought about going over (the guy did live literally right beside them) but thought against it for the fear of leaving Dean alone in this state. Still, worrying over someone was apparently in the Winchester blood, because Sam took his phone out to text Castiel (he finally got his number last night). He hoped he didn't sound too demanding, but couldn't think of better ways to word it, so he just hit the 'send' button.

_[2:08PM] Cas, where are you?_

It wasn't until the late afternoon that Sam got his reply.

_[7:13PM] Hospital. I apologize for not contacting you sooner about my absence this morning. They put me to sleep forcefully after I tried to escape. Is Dean all right?_

That grabbed Sam's attention pretty quickly.

_[7:14PM] What happened??? You ok?_

Sam anxiously waited for what seemed like years before his phone buzzed simultaneously as it received a monster of a text Castiel had sent him in three different parts. Sam read them in chronological order and felt something squeeze inside his chest as the words sank in.

Sam held his head in his hands and cried quietly in gratitude.

The next few minutes were a blur. He's pretty sure he called Castiel and babbled uncontrollably, all in a hushed voice so that Dean wouldn't hear him over _Dr. Sexy_. He hung up with a new promise of visiting Castiel as soon as he can.

The day wore away into the night. Sam came back from taking the garbage out, running into their landlord during the process, and he watched as Dean retired to his room and peer outside of his window to check on the ivy. The lonely leaf was there after the whole day, still clinging for its dear life on the wall. However, the storm had not passed and the rain still pattered against the glass, rendering it almost impossible for the leaf to survive the night.

The next morning, Sam woke Dean gently and demanded that he eat. Instead of complying, Dean sat up to look out the window again. 

The ivy leaf was still there.

Dean stared without any word for a very long time, and Sam excused himself to warm up the soup that had gone cold, which Dean hadn't touched. When Sam brought the soup back, Dean took the spoon and ate it with a bit of determination that Sam hadn't seen before. When Dean glanced over to see Sam practically vibrating in his chair with glee, he grunted, "What?"

Sam grinned. "Nothing. Just happy that you're finally eating."

"Yeah, well." Dean grumbled, putting the spoon down and glanced out the window again to look at the leaf. "If that tiny flimsy thing can do it, maybe I can too, after all." He said, pointedly not looking at Sam.

A knot of anxiety that Sam didn't know existed in his chest untangled itself. "Right." Sam replied softly, almost scared to break this newfound hope.

An hour later, Dean muttered almost sheepishly, "I hope I go on that road trip some day." 

Sam beamed at him with a smile. "You will." He assured. 

The doctor came by later that afternoon, and clamped Sam by the shoulder in their living room. "He's definitely out of danger now. Today may as well be my last visit. Just make sure he gets his nutrition and get his updated shots and he should be good to go. Good work, Sam."

Sam shrugged, feeling the relief flood over him. "Thank you for everything."

After the doctor left, Sam leaned against Dean's door frame, watching his brother. "He says you're all good." He said quietly. "We should go get your shots today."

Dean looked up with a frown. "What, today?"

"Yeah." Sam said carefully, hoping to not scare him away. "We have to go to the hospital to visit Cas anyways. Might as well get the shots then."

Dean looked fully alert. "What?" he sputtered. "What the hell is he doing at a hospital?"

Sometimes Sam doubted his brother's intelligence. "What do you think he's doing at a hospital?" he snorted.

"Sam." Dean warned.

Sam sat down on the chair beside Dean's bed and held Dean's gaze for a moment. "Cas has pneumonia."

Dean stiffened. "I knew I shouldn't have let him near me-"

Sam held him off with a hand. "Our landlord found him yesterday morning downstairs and drove him to the hospital. Said he found him drenched from the storm the night before, so he came upstairs to his complex to have him change beforehand and drop off the stuff he had with him. He told me that Cas had a flashlight and a small step ladder with a palette and brushes and green and yellow paint all over himself." He paused, seeing the words sink into Dean. "Look out the window, Dean, and look at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never moved in the wind? It's Cas' masterpiece - he painted it there the night the last leaf fell."

 

**Epilogue**

 

"You fucking idiot." Dean declared as he walked into Castiel's hospital room. "You dumb son of a bitch."

Castiel crooked his head to meet Dean's eyes from where he lied. "Hello, Dean."

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he stammered. Dean Winchester was never the one to be able to express himself with words.

Castiel didn't have to ask what Dean was talking about. "It worked, didn't it?" he replied instead.

Dean glared down at the IV needle that was embedded into Castiel's arm. Because of him.

"Stop." Castiel said, and Dean snapped his eyes back to meet Castiel's never ending gaze. "This-" Castiel motioned at himself. "-is not your fault. Sit down, Dean."

Dean gladly obeyed, not knowing what else to do. He stared at the bed frame and rasped, "Why would you do that for me?"

Castiel's voice answered, "Good things do happen, Dean."

Dean shook his head, too overwhelmed by the gravity of Castiel's actions. The freaking guy stayed out all night vandalizing in the middle of a fucking storm in November because it had meant something to Dean. Sam had told him that Castiel hadn't been able to visit because he was too busy with all of his school stuff, and admitted that he didn't seem like he had gotten much sleep when Sam had talked to him. Dean was almost glad when he had heard that the hospital staffs basically manhandled Castiel into a bed to get him to sleep. The guy was a wreck. "Not in my experience." He spoke at last.

He was startled when he felt a gentle touch at his chin that tilted his face upwards as Castiel's blue eyes searched his face. 

Dean only held his gaze, unable to speak.

"You deserve to be saved." Castiel said with no hint of doubt found anywhere. 

Dean swallowed the temptations to bolt out of the room and lock himself in to cry. So he did the next thing that was on his mind because he had to reply somehow and his mind was going blank at a very dangerous rate. 

"Do you wanna go out for dinner sometimes?" Dean squeaked out. 

It was Castiel's turn to look startled. If Dean's heart wasn't twisting in the most unpleasant way possible, he would have laughed at his expression, which was not too far off from an-owl-caught-in-a-picture-with-the-flash-on-at-night-in-one-of-those-nature-magazines look. His face become warmer and warmer as he flushed all the way up to his ears. "I mean, you know, after you're better, and uh, shit, I don't even know if you're into guys but uhm, it's totally cool if you're not interested or whatever, I mean-"

"Dean." Castiel cut him off quietly and Dean shut his mouth before he embarrassed himself any further. "I would love to have dinner with you." He said with a fond look.

"Oh." Dean replied dumbly. "Okay, then." He wondered if he should mention that this was a date, somehow needing to confirm that yes, they were going on a date.

Castiel reached out then, as if seeing Dean's internal crisis, and squeezed his hand in a reassuring way, clearing any nagging suspicions left. Dean squeezed back, and gave a smile. Castiel smiled back with his eyes, and they stayed that way for a bit, content to be able to stare without having to hide their yearning for each other anymore.

Castiel let go almost reluctantly after a while. "You should leave. I wouldn't want you to catch anything right after your recovery."

"Dude, no way." he was full out grinning now, almost afraid of the happiness that filled him up. "I didn't get to see you for like a week."

"Dean." Castiel called warningly. "I have pneumonia."

Dean laughed and pointed at his bandaged arm. "I have updated shots."

 

The end

 

**Some indefinite time later**

 

"Dean, did you- Oh my _god_."

Dean looked up from the couch and grinned. It was a good look on him, but not what Sam needed to see right now, not with his hair obscenely sticking out everywhere and his cheeks a little red from scratching against Castiel's stubbles and _ugh he did not just imagine that_. "Heya, Sammy. How was your exam?" He dared to chirp, the bastard.

He actually heard Castiel growl with frustration as Sam watched a hand pull Dean back down. "Sam, go away. Your brother and I are busy."

Sam covered his eyes and faced the other way in case of any further inflicted damage to his brain cells and shifted a little closer to stick his hand out. "Cas, give me your keys."

He felt the keys being thrown at him with no further explanation. "Aspiring future lawyer, in need of every brain cells I have. Stop scarring me for life, both of you, seriously." Sam yelled before the cushion hit him on the side of his face.

"Better stay out tonight, then." Dean said to Sam's back as he bolted out the front door and locked himself away in Castiel's apartment from images of his brother and his best friend with tangled limbs.

Jo called them a few weeks after Castiel's recovery from pneumonia. She didn't hear about Sam's accident until then ("I don't know why you keep calling it an accident." Sam complained. "It's not like I ran into a knife. He _stabbed_ me."), and demanded to know if they were all right. They assured her that yes, everything was fine, and reconciled. The gaps that wasn't there before between the Winchesters and the Harvelles left them somewhat clumsy around each other, but they couldn't really do anything except let time mend whatever gaps were left behind. Both parties did as much as they could, and the effort alone was enough for all of them.

Bobby welcomed the new addition to the family over Christmas dinner. To both Sam and Dean's surprise, Bobby and Castiel hit it off pretty well after they started a long discussion on theology and acknowledged each other after sharing their limitless knowledge on many of the worldwide mythologies. Before they left, he even gruffly mentioned that "Dean did good" and "he better tie him down before he gets away", to which Dean replied by blushing furiously and shoving Castiel into the backseat of the Impala all the while Sam laughed himself into the passenger seat.

Moreover, Dean had finally figured everything out for the road trip last night, expense and all, and Castiel was to join him on the road. Sam should've known better than to forget that they were most likely going to have celebratory sex everywhere in the apartment.

Sam stole a beer from Castiel's fridge as revenge, and put his earbuds in, praising his wisdom at investing in an iPod. They _were_ next door, and the walls were pretty thin and he didn't need further bleaching of his ingenious brain. 

He cracked open a book and smiled as he comfortably seated himself on Castiel's couch and sipped the cold beer. Things were better, and now, now was good.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a retelling of [_The Last Leaf_](http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/LasLea.shtml) by O. Henry. Not based on the song ['Last Leaf'](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkYfB1C0Zgc) by OK Go, but you should still go and listen to it because it's a pretty awesome song.
> 
> I just want to take this moment to give a special shoutout to anyone struggling with depression as of right now. It's hard, and for the lack of better terms, it's depressing. It's not foolish, because it's not something one can control. Understand that you feeling that way **isn't your fault**. I can't promise you that everything will be better because I don't know any of your situations, but I can promise you that you are all worth saving. Yeah, the world will still go around without you, but it would be a much sadder world without you in it.
> 
> It won't take a snap of a finger to get better. If it did, I would go around giving snaps for everyone. It'll take a long time, and it's a long road, but you should still stick around till the end of all this, because hey, it really could be worth all this fight.
> 
> Also a special shoutout to those supporting the ones struggling with depression from the sideline. You are a hero and should be proud of yourself. Remember to take care of yourself as well, because you are just as important as the person you are supporting!
> 
> Thanks to [no_regrets_coyote](http://archiveofourown.org/users/no_regrets_coyote) who read this for the first time before anyone else (excluding me, of course) and told me "this was really good". What are friends for other than self-confidence boosters, amiright? (jokes, please don't hurt me i swear i was joking ohmygod).


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